


John Doe

by jjscm



Category: Emmerdale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-08-01 03:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjscm/pseuds/jjscm
Summary: Graham deals with the aftermath of Joe’s injury.





	1. Detention

It was just a small hand movement. At first Graham thought he might have imagined it.

He’d gently placed Joe in the boot of his car, ready to take him somewhere, so that he could come back and tell Kim, job done. Cain had done him a favour, really.

The hand moved again. This time it was unmistakable. Graham’s eyes fell on the cuff links Joe was wearing, the ones that had belonged to his father. For the first time in what felt like years, Graham smiled.

...

_“What’s your name again?” Joe asked, his tone indicating that he didn’t really care._

_“Graham.”_

_“Graham.” Joe repeated, managing to make his name sound like an insult. “My mum was murdered by a Graham.”_

_Graham eyed him, uncertain whether he was telling the truth. Kim hadn’t given him many details on Joe’s mother’s side of the family. “Well, I’m sure I can find an alibi.”_

_That made Joe chortle. “You’re funny, Graham. You’re wasted as a... what are you?”_

_“Groundskeeper.”_

_”And that involves managing detention?”_

_”It does today. Do you want to tell me why you’re in detention?”_

_Joe shrugged._

_”Come on, Joseph. If we’re both going to be stuck here for a few hours, we may as well talk.”_

_”If you must know, some of the boys in my dorm found a photo of me and my dad. They found it hilarious that he was in a wheelchair.”_

_”So if they were bullying you and not the other way round, why not tell the headmaster that?”_

_”I’m not a grass, Graham. Besides, hitting them was more fun.”_

_”But you’ve told me.”_

_”You don’t count.”_

...

”Who is he?” asked the military doctor.

”A John Doe. I just found him. There was no identification on him. What are his chances?”

”He’s stable, for now. The longer he stays like this, the less likely it is he’ll wake up.”

Graham looked at the boy in the bed. He looked peaceful for once.

”I need to know if he wakes up. I’ll leave my details at reception. I’m relying on your discretion.”

“Sir.”

...

When Graham got back in the car, the elation he’d felt from the moment he’d realised Joe wasn’t dead faded as the reality of the prognosis set in. He’d as good as killed him.

“No,” he sobbed, clutching at the steering wheel, the image of Joe mixing with images of his own wife and child. “No. No. No.”

When he’d calmed down, he took his phone out of his pocket. As he did so, he heard Joe’s cuff links jingle from where he’d placed them in his other pocket.

This time, Kim would have to believe that Joe was dead. He’d make sure of it.

Scrolling through his contacts, he found the number he was looking for and put the phone to his ear. The call went through to voicemail.

“Zoe? It’s Graham Foster. I’m afraid I’ve got some very bad news...”


	2. Collateral Damage

Graham pulled his car up in the spot near the viaduct. He hesitated, sitting in the driver’s seat for a few moments. The last time he had been here, he had dumped Joe's possessions, keeping only his phone, cuff links and watch to show Kim as proof if necessary.

He wasn’t sure what had brought him here. Moira had come barging into Home Farm, looking for Cain. Her husband was in a terrible state, apparently. Graham knew it had been cruel, allowing Cain to believe he was responsible for Joe’s death, but it had been the only way to keep Joe safe, or so he thought. Besides, hadn’t Cain critically injured Joe? He deserved to suffer for that, even if his punch had saved Joe from a worse fate.

Getting out of the car, he looked around and saw a figure standing in the middle of the viaduct. It was dark, but he could still make out Cain’s form. So his instincts had been correct.

"Cain!”

Graham shouted out as he approached the end of the viaduct. Cain was standing on the edge, and from his position it looked like he was about to jump.

”Stay back!” Cain was dangerously close to falling.

Graham stopped. “What are you doing?” he asked in a quieter voice.

”What does it look like?” Cain’s voice broke. “Just go.”

”I can’t do that. I’m the reason you’re here.”

Cain shook his head. “What’re you doing here, eh?”

”Moira came up to Home Farm, looking for you...”

“How’d you know I was here?”

”I didn’t.” Graham discreetly moved closer to Cain on the bridge. “I just thought where I’d go if I was suicidal...”

Cain wiped his face, holding back a sob. He had aged in the last few months and no longer looked like a hard man, someone you wouldn’t want to cross. He had lost weight and looked broken and exhausted, much like Graham.

”Why not come with me, back to Moira?” Graham asked, still moving slowly towards Cain. Cain saw what he was doing.

”Stay back,” he said and Graham stopped. “What do you care, eh?”

”What happened to Joe was an accident,” said Graham, his throat tight. “No one has to die for it. Think of your family.”

”They’d be better off without me.”

”Of course they wouldn’t.” Graham took another involuntarily step. “I know how you feel.”

Cain chuckled. “How?” he asked bitterly.

”My wife.” Graham swallowed. “She died when I crashed the car we were in. She was carrying my child. I was drunk at the time.”

Cain took this in. “You’re not facing a murder charge though, eh?”

”The police can’t prove anything.”

”I don’t care about the police!” Cain finally released the sob he was holding back. “I killed him. His face is the first thing I see when I wake up...”

”You’re not the only one.” Graham resisted moving any closer.

”Debbie hates me. She’ll never forgive me.” Cain took a step towards the edge. “I nearly hit Moira.”

”She’ll forgive you. They both will. You’ve survived worse than this.”

”I’ve never killed anyone before.” Cain looked down into the depths below the viaduct. “Just go. Tell Moira I’m sorry.” There was a finality to his voice which Graham had heard before, in the voice of one of his fellow squaddies, the night before he had blown his own brains out.

”Joe is alive.”

Cain froze on the edge. “What?” His voice resounded with disbelief.

”He’s in a hospital. He’s in a bad way, but he’s not dead.”

”I don’t believe you.” Cain made another movement towards the edge.

”Stop and think about it,” said Graham urgently. “I couldn’t tell you where the body is, because there is no body.”

”I saw him—“

”You saw him unconscious.” Graham hesitated. “I did think he was dead, at first, but when I put him in the boot of my car his hand moved. I took him somewhere safe. He’s being looked after.”

”So why would you let me think he was dead?” Cain spat, still unbelieving.

“Because I needed Kim to believe it. She wanted Joe dead, and if I didn’t do it she was going to get someone else to kill him. Someone sadistic...”

”You’re just saying this.” Cain shook his head, but he had moved back from the edge slightly. “You’re just saying it so I won’t jump.”

”Look at me.” Cain turned his head towards Graham. “I hate you for what you did to Joe. But if you’re going to jump, you should at least know the truth first. You hospitalised him, you didn’t kill him.”

Cain looked into Graham’s eyes and saw tears there. He nodded slowly and stepped down from the edge of the viaduct.

”You can’t tell anyone,” said Graham. “Not Moira, not Debbie. If you do, then you really will be responsible for Joe’s death.”

”I wanna see him.” Cain began walking towards Graham. “I wanna see where he is, as proof.”

”If you want proof I’ll get it, but I can’t show you his location. No one can know.”

”I should kill you.” Cain grabbed Graham by his shirt. “After what you’ve put me and Debbie through...”

”Let’s not repeat the same mistakes, shall we?” said Graham coolly, and Cain slowly let go of him. “I need your word that you won’t say anything, to anyone.”

”I’ll need that proof first.”

”Give me 24 hours and I’ll get it to you.” Graham nodded at where his car was parked. “First let me take you home, to Moira.”

...

_“Are you sure you want to go through with this?”_

_They were sitting in the children’s playground in the village, not far from the swings that Joe had probably played on as a child. “You tempted?” Joe had asked as he walked over._

_”Why would you ask me that?” Joe’s voice was quiet, dangerous._

_Graham looked at him. He could still see the little boy he had met in detention._

_”I’m just saying, it’s not too late to stop all this.”_

_”It’s about 14 years too late.”_

_Graham nodded slowly. He knew there was no point in trying to convince Joe that Charity wasn’t responsible for the death of his father._

_”I thought Sam Dingle might recognise me earlier.” Joe sounded jubilant._

_”You know him?”_

_”Not really. I saw him around, as a child. He and his dad were always poaching on my father’s land.” Joe smiled. “I would be deeply shamed if the stupidest Dingle was the one to see through Tom Waterhouse.”_

_”What have you got against him and his girlfriend?”_

_”Nothing.” Joe shrugged. “Collateral damage.”_

_”Charity’s hardly going to be devastated that they were arrested for badger poaching.”_

_”No, but the more trouble I can cause the Dingles, the better.” Joe sat back on the bench. “Besides, it’s entertaining.”_

_”You’re taking too many risks,” said Graham. “Getting Debbie to work for you. If she finds out about the golf course...”_

_”They’ll all find out eventually.” Joe smiled. “I can’t wait to see that bitch’s face when I run a digger through that hovel they call a cottage.”_

_”Doesn’t Sarah’s condition change anything for you?”_

_Joe looked at Graham and there was a hint of conflict in his eyes for the first time. “This has nothing to do with Sarah.”_

_”You’re planning to destroy her mother. It could affect her.”_

_”Like I said, collateral damage.”_

_”She’s an innocent child.”_

_“So was I.”_ _Joe stood up and brushed his trousers down. “Remember to call me Tom at work tomorrow.”_

_Graham said nothing, just watched as he strode away, the swings still swaying in the breeze in the distance._

...

Graham walked through the steel doors to the private hospital, a newspaper tucked under his arm. From the outside, the place looked like a derelict building, the only distinguishing feature being the security measures that surrounded it.

Once inside, Graham was searched by a guard before being directed to reception. It was the first time he had been here since the day of Joe’s accident; his paranoia that Kim might have him followed had prevented him from returning.

”Staff Sergeant Foster,” he introduced himself at reception, showing his ID. “I’m here to check on a young man I brought in a few months ago.”

”Name of the patient?”

”He was unidentified.”

”Oh.” The receptionist picked up the phone on the desk and dialled a number, telling Graham to take a seat. Ten minutes later a military doctor entered through the locked doors at the opposite end of reception. Graham recognised him from when he had brought Joe in.

”Sergeant Foster?”

Graham nodded as he stood up. “I just wanted to enquire after the patient.”

”There’s been no change in his condition.”

Graham’s heart sank, although he didn’t know what he would do about Kim if Joe did start to regain consciousness.

”Can I see him?”

The doctor led him to the familiar department, using his key card at every stage to get them through the doors. Joe was in a private room, in a long bed, and looked like he was simply sleeping. He was thinner than when Graham had brought him in and his hair had grown longer than Graham had ever seen it. He was clean-shaven, his cheeks hollow. The nurses must be shaving him.

”May I have a moment alone with him?”

It was a measure of the respect that Graham’s reputation still commanded within the ranks that the doctor nodded. “Two minutes. I’ll wait outside.”

Graham waited until the door had closed, leaving him and Joe alone. Crossing the room quickly, he placed today’s copy of the _Hotten_ _Courier_ across Joe’s chest, the date clearly visible at the top of the newspaper. He took his phone out of his pocket and photographed Joe and the paper. He put his phone away, hoping that he was doing the right thing, compromising Joe’s safety to save Cain’s sanity.

Before leaving, Graham bent down and gently brushed a kiss against Joe’s forehead.

”Goodbye, Joe,” he said softly. He looked around the small room, making sure Joe was in safe hands, then departed. 


	3. Debts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to MissGeorgieTate for helping with this chapter.

_Charity slid into Tom's office, the fire alarm ringing in her ears. It had been an inspired idea to set the alarm off, the offices were now deserted. She didn't know what she was looking for, exactly, but she was determined to find something to prove to Debbie that Tom couldn't be trusted._

_She started by looking in the filing cabinet, which was full of papers, but there was nothing particularly interesting there. Nothing about Wishing Well Cottage. She walked over to the desk, which was bare, and tried the drawer underneath, which was locked. There was a key on the top, however. Triumphantly she unlocked the drawer_ _and snatched up a plastic wallet that was sitting inside. The wallet contained a passport and some other official looking documents, as well as a photograph of Charity’s late husband, Chris, with his son Joseph. In the photo, Chris was reading a story while Joseph sat on his lap, one hand touching his father’s face._  
  
_For a moment Charity stared at the photograph, totally confused. How had Tom got that? Why would he want a photo of Chris? She opened the passport and found Tom's face staring back at her, next to the name TATE and below that JOSEPH MARK._  
  
_"Oh my god," Charity whispered. "Oh my god!" She had thought there was something familiar about Tom, had put it down to having met a thousand smarmy types like him before. Now things were falling into place. Tom being an orphan, his inheritance, the way he had sarcastically called Charity "Mum"..._  
  
_Joseph. Charity strained to remember Chris's little boy. Noah's half-brother. The snot-nosed little brat who had insisted he would rather go to boarding school than live with his father's new wife._  
  
_Charity pushed the photo and passport back in the plastic wallet. She put the wallet back in the drawer and pushed it shut. She needed to call Debbie, right now. She didn't know what Tom/Joseph was playing at, but he had inserted himself into Debbie's life under a false name. She had to warn her daughter._  
  
_She called Debbie's number and the call was answered after a couple of rings. Charity didn't wait for Debbie to speak. "Debbie, listen to me, you can't trust Tom. I'm in his office and I've got proof. He’s not who you think he is." There was silence at the other end. "Debbie? Debs?" The call was cut._

 _Frantically, Charity scrolled back up her contacts list and pressed Cain's number. His voicemail answered: "This is Cain Dingle. Leave a message, or get lost."_  
  
_"Cain, you're not gonna believe this." She looked out of the window. "Just ring me when you get this." She turned to leave, but was blocked by Graham Foster. Tom's right-hand man had entered the room quietly, while the rest of the building was assembled at the evacuation point._  
  
_"I was looking for Tom," Charity bluffed. "Is he with you?"_  
  
_"No," said Graham, teaching out to take Charity's phone. "I'm just here to put out the fire."_  
  
_"Er, get your hands off me and gimme my phone back.”_

_”Take a seat,” Graham instructed. “Make yourself comfortable.”_

_“Don’t you dare lock that door,” Charity threatened. Graham raised an eyebrow as he pocketed the key. “Right, you want me to scream the place down, do you?"_

_"You might want to wait a while." Graham nodded towards the window. "The building's empty, thanks to the fire alarm."_  
  
_Charity looked around for an escape. "I could totally take you in a fight," she sneered._  
  
_"I'm a gentleman, so I'd rather not put that to the test." Graham moved in menacingly. "Now sit down and act like a lady, and if you're lucky, I'll give you a lift home after.”_  
  
_Charity slowly sat down at the chair next to Tom's desk. She wasn't scared of Graham, not really, but she wanted answers, and he was the person who could give them to her._  
  
_"You know, don't you?" she asked. "You know who your boss really is." There was a flicker behind Graham's eyes. "He's not Tom Waterhouse, he's Joseph Tate."_  
  
_There was a pause, then Graham said calmly, "Yes, I know."_  
  
_"So all this," Charity gestured at the building around her. "This whole business, under a false name?"_  
  
_Graham shrugged. "It's just a business name."_  
  
_"Don't give me that! He's been sleeping with our Debbie, pretending to be someone else!" Charity's voice rose. "She knew him when they were kids, and she couldn't stand him!"_  
  
_Graham said nothing._  
  
_"So the plans for the golf course... he knew all along, that it were our land?" Charity was still putting the pieces together. "This is twisted! It's like something Chris would do!" Her eyes widened. "That's it, isn't it? This is about Chris. He wants... revenge or something, on our family." Graham's expression told her she was on the right track. "And you were in on it?"_  
  
_"No, I wasn't," said Graham quietly. "In fact, I tried to talk Joe out of it."_  
  
_"Didn't tell me or Debbie the truth though, did you?" Charity spat. "What kind of hold has he got over you?"_  
  
_"I owe Joe." Graham looked away. "I owe him my life."_  
  
_"Why? Who are you?" Charity stared at him. "Where's Zoe?"_

 _"Still in New Zealand, as far as I know." Graham looked discreetly at his watch, remembering his phone conversation with Joe:_  
  
"Graham, where are you?"  
  
"I'm outside the offices, the fire alarm went off."  
  
"So that's how she got in." Joe sounded almost amused. "Listen, Charity's in my office. The jig is up. I need you to keep her talking for as long as possible."  
  
"What are you going to do?" Graham was already walking back into the building.  
  
"Meet me outside Jacob's Fold in an hour. That should give me time to send the bailiffs in, and collect the Bentley."  
  
"Are you sure about this?" Graham walked into reception and took the stairs leading to Joe's office.  
  
"Positive. I'm sending Debbie on a wild goose chase. Then I'll put the wheels in motion, and go and get the champagne." He sounded gleeful.  
  
"I hope you know what you're doing." Graham had reached Joe's office.  
  
"Just stall her, Graham. Don't let her phone anyone." The line went dead.  
  
_"I met Joe at his boarding school," Graham explained, seeing that Charity was getting restless. "I was working there. We became friends."_  
  
_"In't that called grooming, these days?" Charity sneered._  
  
_Graham ignored this. "Joe gave me a job, when he finished school. Set up this business with his inheritance from his father."_  
  
_"And it just had to be under a fake name?" Charity pressed. "How long has he been planning this?"_  
  
_Graham hesitated. "Joe has always felt... very resentful, about his father's death."_  
  
_"Well that weren't my fault!" said Charity, outraged. "Chris killed himself, I had nothing to do with it."_  
  
_"You had an affair with your cousin, which led to Chris taking his own life."_  
  
_"I made a mistake." Charity bit her lip. "I loved Chris."_  
  
_"According to Joe you married him for his money."_  
  
_"Maybe at first, yeah. We weren't all born with a silver spoon in our gobs like golden boy. Some of us had to work for it."_  
  
_"I understand, but Joe was just a little boy. He's grown up believing that you were responsible for driving his father to suicide."_  
  
_"That's rubbish!" Charity remembered seeing Joseph at Chris's funeral, the little boy's eyes on her reproachfully as he held on to Zoe's hand. "And that's why he went after Debbie? To get at me?"_  
  
_"I'm afraid so." Graham glanced at his watch again and this time Charity saw._  
  
_"Why would you tell me all this anyway?" Charity stood up as she realised. "You're stalling me."_  
  
_"Come with me." Graham blocked her path again. "I'll drive you back to the village."_  
  
_"Give me my phone."_  
  
_"I'm afraid I can't do that."_  
  
_"I'll call the police."_  
  
_"What with?"_  
  
_"Give it to me now, or I'll report you."_  
  
_Graham reluctantly handed over the phone. Charity saw she had a voicemail from Debbie. Glaring at Graham, she listened to the message._  
  
_"Hi Mum, I went to meet some clients for Tom but they haven't turned up. I can't get hold of Tom. I'm going home now, can you come over?"_  
  
_Charity tried to call Debbie back, but the line was engaged. She was probably trying to call Tom._  
  
_"Take me to Jacob's Fold," she said to Graham. At that moment his own phone buzzed and he looked at the screen. There was a text from Joe, saying 'Showtime'._  
  
_Graham nodded. "Let's go."_

...

The Discovery's lamps cast sinister searchlight beams over the farmhouse as Graham approached, his eyes fixed and intent on seeing Cain.  
  
It was late and whilst Graham was confident that Cain was still awake, he did not want to disturb Moira or the children. He settled his fist upon the wooden door with a brisk tapping rhythm.  
  
Cain, who was finishing up the last of his tasks for the day, drew himself back from the table with enhanced effort and opened the door to find Graham standing outside. "Can I come in?" he asked. Cain stepped aside, glowering at Graham as he walked in.  
  
"Are you alone?" asked Graham.  
  
"Yeah. Make it quick."  
  
"Have you told Moira anything?"  
  
"Not about last night, no."  
  
"You wanted proof, about Joe." Graham took his phone out of his pocket. "I need your word first, that you won't tell anyone."  
  
Cain nodded. "You've got it."  
  
Graham held out his phone to show the picture of Joe in his hospital bed and the newspaper with today's date visible at the top. Cain looked at it and Graham could see the conflicted emotions in his eyes: anger, relief, guilt.  
  
"How do I know that's real?"  
  
"I'm not that good at photoshop."  
  
"Is he..." Cain nodded at the phone. "Is he gonna be alright?"  
  
"I'm not a doctor."  
  
"Debbie should know." Cain's eyes met Graham’s. "She should know he's alive."  
  
"Then she'll want to visit him. Then Kim could find out where he is."  
  
"I could go to the police. Tell them the truth."  
  
"Or you could get on with your life, without having a GBH charge hanging over you." Graham deleted the photo and pocketed his phone.  
  
"I could still tell someone."  
  
Graham looked Cain in the eyes. "You owe Joe."  
  
Cain finally nodded. "You can see yourself out."  
  
"A pleasure, as always." Graham strode to the front door with a cold smile, where he turned back, his expression dark, eyes devoid of emotion. "If anyone finds out about Joe, I'll kill you."  
  
Cain said nothing. As the door closed behind Graham, he slumped into a chair with his head in his hands. The trauma of the last few months finally hit home as he breathed out.

...

 _Graham's eyes opened. He was on a stretcher, being dragged along a hospital corridor. People in uniform were calling instructions at each other and he caught his own name._  
_  
"Mr Foster?" said a voice as someone leaned over him.  
  
Graham tried to remember how he had got here. He had fallen asleep, in his hut on the school grounds. Then he could remember being surrounded by smoke, then fresh air as Joe had dragged him outside.  
  
"Joe—" He looked around for him. His voice came out hoarse.  
  
"Mr Foster, you were in a fire. You have smoke inhalation," a doctor informed him. "We need to check you over."  
  
Graham coughed. "Where's Joe?" he asked weakly.  
  
"The boy who came in with him," said a paramedic in low tones.  
  
"He's fine. He's gone to the children's ward."  
  
Graham sunk back onto the stretcher. He felt no particular concern for his own safety, but worry over Joe was still preventing him from relaxing. "Are you sure he's alright?" he whispered.  
  
"Joseph Tate? He's fine. He came in the ambulance with you. Just a precaution, he didn't inhale much smoke. He saved your life, by the looks of it."  
  
There was a note of reproach in the doctor's voice and Graham asked no more questions.  
  
...  
  
It was getting late and the hospital was quieter. Graham looked around at the other patients on the ward, some of whom were much worse off than him. He had been lucky, he hadn't inhaled too much smoke. Joe had pulled him out just in time.  
  
He closed his eyes, thinking of the 13-year-old boy. He could have killed Joe as well, if he'd been trapped in the fire Graham had started.  
  
"Graham?" said Joe's voice, unusually deep for a boy of his age. "Are you awake?"  
  
Graham opened his eyes to see the boy standing in his hospital gown at the bedside.  
  
"I thought you were in the children's ward?"  
  
"I am." Joe shrugged. "They're keeping me in for observation. I'm fine though. Thought I'd come and see how you are."  
  
"I'm fine, thanks to you." Graham knew he should feel grateful, or ashamed, but he mostly just felt embarrassed. A child had had to save his life after he passed out, drunk.  
  
Joe sat down on the chair by Graham's bed. Neither of them spoke for a minute.  
  
"You pulled me out," said Graham finally. "I remember..."  
  
Joe nodded. "I saw the fire. I had to break in."  
  
"You were very brave."  
  
"Well, I couldn't leave you in there." Joe shifted, clearly uncomfortable at the prospect of an emotional conversation.  
  
"I wish you had," said Graham without thinking.  
  
Joe looked at him with something like anger. "Why would you say that?"  
  
"Sorry. I don't mean that."  
  
"Did you start the fire deliberately?" asked Joe abruptly. He looked around to make sure nobody was listening.  
  
Graham shook his head. "No."  
  
"So what happened?"  
  
"I was drunk."  
  
"I guessed that," said Joe with sarcasm.  
  
"And I fell asleep, and forgot I'd left the oven on."  
  
"And that's it?" demanded Joe. "We both could have died."  
  
"I didn't ask you to rescue me."_  
  
_"You're pathetic, you know that?" Joe hissed. "Why don't you care about your own life?"  
  
"You wouldn't understand."  
  
"Why, because I'm too young?" Joe glared at him. "My dad killed himself when I was eight. I understand enough."  
  
Graham nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be sorry. Just tell me."  
  
"My wife." Graham swallowed, knowing he could only tell Joe the partial truth. "She died, just over a year ago, in a car crash."  
  
"Right." Joe looked a little less angry.  
  
"I was driving. She was pregnant." Graham paused. "I was drunk." He watched as Joe's face registered these facts, but there was no condemnation there.  
  
"It was an accident," said Joe finally.  
  
"My wife and unborn daughter died because of me. You can't imagine how that feels."  
  
"No, maybe not." Joe looked like he was trying to find the right words. "But I know what it's like to lose someone, and to carry that every day."_  
  
_He sounded wise beyond his years. His words almost sounded like forgiveness, and Graham shut his eyes again as tears slid down his face._  
  
_"Graham—" Joe sounded awkward, embarrassed._  
_  
"I'm sorry." Graham wiped his face. "You should go to bed. I'm glad you're alright."_  
_  
"What about you?"_  
_  
"I'm fine too. They said I'll be out in a few days."_  
  
_Joe nodded and got up. "I had better go, before they notice I'm missing on the ward."_  
_  
"Joe?" Joe stopped and turned as Graham called after him. "Thank you. For saving my life."_  
_  
Joe shrugged. "You'd do the same for me."_  
  
_"Yes," said Graham. "I would."_


End file.
